"Goodbye, Grandpa! I’m leaving now!" Zhang Sanfeng shouted as he ran, not waiting for his grandfather to reply before disappearing into the distance.

"That brat!" Grandfather chuckled helplessly.

Zhang Sanfeng sprinted back to his room, clutching the small falcon. After closing the door, he placed the falcon on the bed and sat cross-legged. Slowly, he began to channel his spiritual energy, summoning the Buddha's golden lotus. At his current level of cultivation, he could barely maintain the golden lotus for a few minutes. As he searched through the lotus, he finally found what he was looking for just as his energy was about to run out—a crystal ball the size of a basketball, one he had taken from somewhere during the time when the "Three Plagues" rampaged through the Western Divine Realm. The crystal ball was smooth and translucent, with a faint magical aura. It was a perfect material for crafting a soul tool.

After replenishing his energy, Zhang Sanfeng cast a soul-linking spell on both the falcon and the crystal ball. This spell, a rare and obscure soul magic, allowed the falcon's sight to be reflected in the crystal ball. If used on a battlefield, it would serve as an excellent reconnaissance tool. Upon activating the spell, the crystal ball indeed displayed the world as seen through the falcon’s eyes. Satisfied, Zhang Sanfeng canceled the spell and hid the crystal ball. He stroked the falcon’s smooth feathers and said, “From now on, you’ll be called ‘Radar.’ I don’t have the real thing, so I guess it’s not infringing anyone’s copyright!”

“Master, the palace guards request your presence!” a servant announced.

“Understood, I’m coming!” Zhang Sanfeng instructed the servants to watch over Radar, then left for the palace.

After disembarking from the carriage at the palace gate, he followed his aunt’s two guards. As they passed a flower wall, Zhang Sanfeng noticed a few young boys surrounding two little girls. The vile scene from a month ago played out once again—those boys were kicking and hitting the girls, smearing the dirt from the roadside onto their faces and bodies. The two little girls clung to each other, tears streaming down their faces, but they stubbornly refrained from begging for mercy.

Zhang Sanfeng couldn’t help but recall his own childhood, when he had been bullied by other children. He had cried, but never once begged for mercy. Back then, he had been an orphan, just like these two girls. The similarity of their suffering ignited a blaze of anger within him. Without thinking of the consequences, he roared, “You damn brats!”

“Run! It’s the dragon family’s kid!” someone shouted.

The group quickly scattered.

Zhang Sanfeng helped the two girls to their feet, wiping the mud from their faces. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here!” he reassured them.

“Thank you, but you should leave! They’re coming back!” the girl on the left said.

“Good, now I don’t have to go looking for them. Let me take care of this!” he replied.

As expected, the group returned, with Prince Wu leading the way, flanked by the four wolves of the Shiyuan family and several other lesser members of the clan. They stopped a few meters away from Zhang Sanfeng. He stood protectively behind the two little girls.

“You still dare to meddle in other people’s business? Didn’t your old man teach you a lesson last time?” Prince Wu sneered, and his cronies joined in mocking laughter.

“My backside’s fine, but I wonder how those idiots are doing—those who were crying and covered in blood last time?” Zhang Sanfeng retorted, undaunted. To engage in a war of words with him was to invite death.

The laughter immediately stopped. One of the Shiyuan wolves pulled out a small crossbow, aiming it at Zhang Sanfeng. “I’ll see if your magic is faster than my bolt, brat. If you don’t want to die, get on your knees and beg!” he snarled.

“Yeah, kneel down and beg us, and I’ll just beat you with a stick for a bit to vent my anger,” Prince Wu added smugly.

Zhang Sanfeng felt a surge of danger. This time, Prince Wu wasn’t joking—he was ready to kill. Zhang Sanfeng knew the power of that crossbow and that it could easily punch a hole through him. But if he used his Tai Chi skills to block, he would only suffer minor injuries. His life would be safe. Still, killing this fool would prevent future trouble. While quietly preparing his spiritual energy and forming a Tai Chi energy shield in front of him, he taunted, “Is that all you’ve got? Aren’t you the same idiot who soiled himself last time?”

Two of the guards who had come with Zhang Sanfeng saw things were about to escalate and quickly moved to block him. “Prince Wu, Young Master Long is here by the Queen’s command. Please, we ask for your understanding!” one guard said.

“Who do you think you are, trying to stop me? Get out of my way! I’m going to teach him a lesson today!” Prince Wu shouted.

One guard stayed behind to protect Zhang Sanfeng, while the other hurried to report to the Queen. Zhang Sanfeng smirked, making exaggerated facial expressions toward the Shiyuan wolves, deliberately trying to provoke them.

One of the wolves’ faces turned a deep shade of red, veins bulging. He had always been the one doing the bullying, and he couldn’t tolerate being made to look a fool. The humiliation and rage caused him to snap. With a roar, he pulled the trigger of the crossbow.

The bolt shot through the air, its speed slowed by Zhang Sanfeng’s Tai Chi energy field. Using Tai Chi, Zhang Sanfeng diverted the bolt’s path, and it struck his left shoulder with a sharp, searing pain. He staggered, nearly losing consciousness, but he couldn’t afford to faint yet. This was the perfect opportunity. Drawing on all his spiritual energy, he unleashed a new technique he had learned during his meditation—Thunder Strike. A flash of lightning, as thick as a duck egg, surged from his body and crashed into the Shiyuan wolf’s head.

The immense pain and the energy expenditure caused Zhang Sanfeng to lose consciousness immediately after, but not before hearing someone shout, “No!” before everything went black.

When he woke, it was night. The first thing he saw was his mother’s red-rimmed eyes. His heart softened with warmth. It felt so good to have a mother.

“Son, how are you feeling?” his mother asked with concern.

“Mom, I’m fine. Really, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The wound didn’t hit the bone. I’ll be fine with a few days of rest,” Zhang Sanfeng assured her.

“Really? How do you know it didn’t hit the bone?” his mother asked, puzzled.

“I can feel it, Mom! And I’m sure the Light Priests used healing magic on me, right? Honestly, I’m already fine!” he grinned. “By the way, Mom, is that bastard dead?”

“He’s dead. He was cooked long ago. It’s a mercy for him. Don’t worry, you acted in self-defense. No one can touch you, not even the king!” his mother affirmed.

“So, it’s over then?” Zhang Sanfeng asked.

“Well, not exactly. Your father is still in the palace arguing with the Shiyuan family. That kid was the son of a duke, after all. I was there too, but your father insisted I leave. When he gets back, I’ll make him pay!” his mother gritted her teeth.

“Why did he ask you to leave?” Zhang Sanfeng was surprised. His father usually listened to his mother without question, so why had he angered her this time?

“The Shiyuan family’s princess wanted you to accompany her nephew in death. I slapped her a few times for that!” his mother replied nonchalantly.

“You slapped a princess? Aren’t you afraid the king will punish you?” Zhang Sanfeng asked, astonished.

“Your aunt slapped her more than I did. Besides, if I killed her, the king wouldn’t dare do anything to me,” his mother said confidently.

“Why’s that?” Zhang Sanfeng was even more confused.

“I’m the eldest princess of the Elven race. While our population is small—only a few million—and our military is relatively modest, we are a nation of mages. All our soldiers are high-level magic users. The human kingdom has only a few hundred, whereas we have tens of thousands. Our nations border each other. If it came to war, I alone could wipe out the Human Empire!” she said proudly.

“That’s why Dad’s afraid of you?” Zhang Sanfeng finally understood.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s because he loves me! Your family’s background is even stronger than mine, but not many people know about it!” his mother smiled.

“Tell me more, Mom!” Zhang Sanfeng urged.

“Alright, alright. It’s an old story. The five greatest powers on the continent are people of extraordinary strength. The first is the Pope of the Light Church, Coman Wester. He can channel divine power and is unmatched in his use of grand prophecy magic. My mother admits she is no match for him, so she ranks second. The third is the Pope’s sister, Lina Wester, your grandmother!” his mother said seriously.

“Grandmother? I’ve never met her!” Zhang Sanfeng interrupted in shock.

She was currently serving as the commander of the Light Cavalry Legion in the Papal Kingdom, overseeing an impressive army of 1.5 million Light Knights. Known as the Sword Saint of Light, she was also the only Dragon Knight in the entire continent. If not for her dragon being still a juvenile, she would likely hold an even higher rank. Fourth on the list, however, was a despicable man—an old enemy of their family. His name was Kaufman, the eighth Sword God in history, and the only remaining Sword God in existence. Kaufman had once been a close friend of the protagonist's grandfather, but jealousy grew in him when he saw his friend's superior martial talent. Moreover, both of them had pursued the same woman—his grandmother—yet Kaufman had failed where the grandfather succeeded, which only fanned the flames of his hatred.

Kaufman began to sow discord between the grandfather and the grandmother. Both were hot-headed, and Kaufman’s persistent scheming over the years eventually drove a wedge between them, leading to their separation. Then, under the pretense of seeking revenge for the grandmother, Kaufman lured the grandfather out of the Kingdom of the Han. Along the way, Kaufman’s men ambushed the elder, wearing him down and depleting his energy. Kaufman then challenged him to a duel. Given the circumstances, the grandfather stood no chance. Kaufman severed the elder’s meridians, crippling him for life. Not only that, Kaufman stole the Dragon Family’s most treasured heirloom—the legendary Dragon-Patterned Sword. He issued a taunting challenge, daring the Dragon Family to try and reclaim it.

During the journey to bring the grandfather back, two of the protagonist’s uncles were killed. Kaufman, unrelenting, allied with neighboring kingdoms and pressured the King to issue an order for the complete annihilation of the Dragon Family. Fortunately, the King, a man of reason, understood the consequences of such an act. When the third young master of the Dragon Family returned from his travels with the Princess of the Elven People, the King backed down.

The protagonist’s grandfather, refusing to seek his grandmother’s help, instead sent his youngest son and all of the family’s elite warriors into battle. The protagonist’s father fought brilliantly. He single-handedly defeated the commander of the allied forces, the Sword Saint of Flowers, and, with the morale of the troops soaring, he struck decisively, crushing the already divided alliance. The father’s victory earned him the title of Dragon Sword Saint and one of the Four Great Generals.

His mother spoke of this with great admiration, her voice filled with nostalgia. “He was so handsome back then,” she said wistfully.

The protagonist, astonished, had never known the Dragon Family had such a rich and tumultuous history. As he processed this new knowledge, a burning desire for revenge began to well up inside him. Kaufman, just you wait!

"By the way, what exactly is a Sword God?" he asked.

His mother shrugged. “I don’t fully understand the martial arts side of things either, but a Sword God is someone far more powerful than a Sword Saint. From what I’ve heard, they can send their energy waves over a hundred meters. Your father can barely manage ten meters, and he’s still a Sword Saint!" She said this with a hint of frustration.

Sword Saint and not enough? The protagonist was speechless.

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed through the room as his father entered. He walked straight to the bed and, without preamble, said, "They’re going to seal you, and I’ve agreed to it."